


(Not So) Good Boy

by TheAccountOfShame



Series: Give It Up [1]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM elements, Bruises, Dom!Shoma, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Established consent, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Spanking, no real plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 08:28:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13807398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAccountOfShame/pseuds/TheAccountOfShame
Summary: Yuzuru knew he was going to be in trouble the moment the words left his mouth.“Shoma is more like a puppy,” he said, smiling. Shoma laughed awkwardly, but when Yuzuru had thoughtlessly added that Shoma was cute, he could see out of the corner of his eye how Shoma’s face dropped and his expression hardened.He hated being called cute.





	(Not So) Good Boy

 

Yuzuru knew he was going to be in trouble the moment the words left his mouth.

“Shoma is more like a puppy,” he said, smiling. Shoma laughed awkwardly, but when Yuzuru had thoughtlessly added that Shoma was cute, he could see out of the corner of his eye how Shoma’s face dropped and his expression hardened.

He _hated_ being called cute.

 

The idea that he had slipped up, done something wrong, gave Yuzuru a thrill. He sent sideways glances in Shoma’s direction through the ride back to the athletes’ village. His hands fidgeted in his lap, anticipation building. Shoma wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary. If he was annoyed, there was no sign of it. He was glued to his phone, tapping away with his thumbs, face a neutral mask. They way it always was when he played games.

Yuzuru knew better, though. Shoma might not get angry. He wouldn’t yell at Yuzuru or get aggressive. But it didn’t mean Yuzuru wouldn’t pay in some way for what he said. Yuzuru anticipated that. He could feel it tingling beneath his skin, a bubble of excitement rising up in him already. He wanted that. It had been a while since Yuzuru had gotten himself in trouble.

 

Shoma didn’t speak as they walked through the courtyard, or as they entered the Japanese team apartments. Yuzuru chewed his lip as they rode the elevator up to their room in silence. They hadn’t been rooming together, not during the competition. That would have been too much pressure for both of them, too much disruption and distraction for Yuzuru. But for now, it was okay, just for a few days, while they were being dragged to the same media events together.

Yuzuru glanced at Shoma, trying to read his mood. His eyes were closed, his expression was peaceful. Not asleep, but resting. Yuzuru knew he was tired, Yuzu was tired too. The rush of media events after the medal ceremony was dizzying. At least they had a rest day coming up.

For a moment, Yuzuru thought maybe Shoma would just drop it. Let it slide. Maybe he was too tired to put Yuzuru in his place. It was a bit disappointing. They had been so busy through the competition, and it had been so long since they had really seen each other. It had been so long since Shoma last took control, held him roughly, made him beg.

 

The elevator stopped, a soothing voice announcing the floor in Korean, and then English. Shoma opened his eyes. There was just a split second, as the doors opened, where their eyes met. Yuzuru opened his mouth to speak, but Shoma shook his head, lips curling into a private smile. Shoma exited the elevator first, reaching back to take Yuzuru’s hand, leading him out. It wasn’t necessary, really, but in some ways it was. Shoma looked back at Yuzuru over his shoulder and gave a small nod, squeezing his hand. Yuzuru smiled in response, lowering his head slightly as Shoma dropped his hand and started down the hall. Somethings were best left unsaid, somethings Shoma preferred to communicate without words. Yuzuru understood. Shoma had just told him everything Yuzuru needed to know in nothing more than a few bobs of his head and a squeeze if his hand. They had already started. Yuzuru would get what he wanted.

Yuzuru stayed one step behind, kept his mouth shut even though he could feel the need to speak bubbling up. Even from behind, Yuzuru could see the shift in Shoma’s demeanour. His back a little straighter, stride more sure. Shoma opened the hotel door and walked straight inside. Yuzuru followed, closing it carefully behind him and toeing off his shoes.

Waiting for Shoma to speak was killing him but in a good way. The silence fed the suspense, which in turn increased Yuzuru’s excitement. This was all part of the shift; a space of time at the beginning of the game where Yuzuru handed the power over to Shoma. Only Shoma could really set things in motion, all Yuzuru could do was let Shoma know he was ready and wait.  
  


Shoma took off his coat, tossing it over one of the chairs in the kitchen as he moved through to the bedroom. Yuzuru followed, heart thumping, watching as Shoma switched on the lamp and sat on the bed he took over when they had switched rooms. Yuzuru edged towards the other one, thinking he could just sit while Shoma decided what he wanted to do.  
  


“No.”  
  


Yuzuru froze, butt hovering an inch above the mattress. Shoma’s eyes were intense, but he smirked. 

“Not on the bed.” Shoma shook his head. “On the floor.”

Oh.  
Yuzuru moved away from the bed. He barely started to bend his knees to get himself down on the floor when Shoma spoke again.

 

“You’re forgetting something.”

 

Yuzuru looked at him, confused. Shoma smiled. Almost sweet, amused. Mischievous. It was a smile Yuzuru liked a lot.

“Your clothes,” Shoma said with a slight tilt of his head. “Do you think you should be wearing them?”

 

Yuzuru bit his lip again, this time to stop himself from smiling. He shook his head. Good boys could keep their clothes on, sit on the bed, keep their dignity. Yuzuru hadn’t been good.

“Take them off then,” Shoma said casually, sitting on the edge of the bed he had tossed his jacket onto. The one he had slung his bags beside earlier. He rolled his shoulders, his neck, easing out some of the tension he had been holding through the day, but his eyes stayed on where Yuzuru stood.

Yuzuru’s stomach fluttered as he took off his jacket, then his t-shirt, then his track pants. He knew Shoma was watching, waiting as Yuzuru folded each item and neatly stacked them on the floor. He liked knowing Shoma’s eyes were on him. He would give the commands, but Yuzuru had some power too. He could make Shoma wait, just a little bit.

He hesitated before slipping off his underwear but knew better than to wait for Shoma to tell him to take them off. He could hear Shoma draw in a breath, as he added his underwear to the pile. Yuzuru’s toes flexed against the wooden floor as he straightened and turned back to face where Shoma was sitting. The air was cool against his skin. Yuzuru’s hands twitched at his sides, smothering the instinct to cover himself.

 

“Come here,” Shoma beckoned. Yuzuru obliged, already flushing from the mild humiliation of being made to strip. He loved this side of Shoma. The part of him that was sure, that knew what he wanted and said it plainly. Yuzuru liked when the formalities fell away and all that was left was the two of them. He liked how Shoma’s soft voice didn’t change, but his shyness stopped holding him back.

He wasn’t shy with Yuzuru. Not anymore. He wasn’t intimidated or idolising. He wasn’t following expectations or made uneasy by some social situation. No. Shoma was comfortable with Yuzuru now. Comfortable enough to assert himself, take control. And Yuzuru was comfortable enough to open himself up to that, submit, give in.

 

Yuzuru slowly sank down to his knees, tucking his feet beneath him. Shoma sighed.  
“Don’t sit like that. You’re putting pressure on your ankle.”

 

Yuzuru nodded and shifted his weight to his left side, stretching out his right leg. Shoma was thoughtful like that.

It was a comfortable enough position to sit in, but not for a long period of time. Yuzuru knew he would be shuffling within minutes to ease the twist of his waist and the weight on his leg. The floor was hard, pleasantly warm in patches from the heating system that lay beneath. The warmth was nice against tired muscles in Yuzuru’s calves and thigh.It was a pleasant contrast with the coolness of the air in the room. Shoma had cracked open a window before they left for the interview to let in some fresh air. He hadn’t closed it yet. Probably to give Yuzuru that contrast in temperature, that little extra bit of stimulation.

Yuzuru sat at Shoma’s feet and waited. He hated waiting. It was boring, he got restless too easily. Sometimes Shoma just liked to test him. See how patient he could be.

 

Shoma moved. Yuzuru tracked him as he got up, walked to where he had stacked his luggage. There was a kind of grace, a sense of purpose, as he leant down the open one of his bags. Condoms, lube - they got thrown onto the bed, but Shoma resumed searching. There was something else he wanted. Yuzuru pressed his lips together. He couldn’t believe Shoma had even thought to bring it.

Shoma must have missed this as much as Yuzuru had. Missed Yuzuru.

 

Yuzuru lifted his eyes when Shoma turned back. In his hand was a slim, black strip of leather. A collar. Yuzuru’s collar.  
  


“You embarrassed me,” Shoma said, sounding a little sullen. Yuzuru held his breath as Shoma as approached. It had to be deliberate, the way he moved slower than usual. He touched Yuzuru’s chin and guided his head back, exposing his throat. His fingers were warm. Shoma was always warm to touch. Yuzuru swallowed as Shoma ran a fingertip down the length of his throat, so lightly that the touch almost wasn’t there. It would have been ticklish if it were anywhere else.

“I’m sorry.”

Shoma paused. Speaking without permission wasn’t bad, really. It wasn’t one of their rules. But Yuzuru talked too much. When they were out in public. Shoma preferred Yuzuru tried to speak less, only when necessary. The apology was okay. It wasn’t completely meaningless.

“I think you forgot your place,” Shoma continued, fitting the collar around Yuzuru’s neck.

Yuzuru let his eyes fall shut for a moment, focusing entirely on the familiar feeling of cold leather, the weight of the buckle against his throat, the slight bite as the collar caught on his skin while Shoma fastened it. Yuzuru loved this part - when Shoma first put it on him. It was like everything settled into place. Yuzuru’s lips parted slightly as Shoma tugged on the strap, checking it wasn’t too tight. He would never put it on too tight, even though the idea excited Yuzuru. Shoma wouldn’t want to risk it. Not with Yuzuru’s asthma. When Yuzuru had asked him to fasten it tighter before, Shoma had refused. The idea of restricting Yuzuru’s breathing, even just a little bit, was too far for him. He never wanted to hurt Yuzuru in any way that had lasting consequences. A moment of pain that added to the pleasure was good, a little lingering tenderness or bruising that let Yuzuru relive the moment a day or two later was okay. But no cuts, no scars, nothing serious that could get in the way of Yuzuru’s training or otherwise have a negative effect on his daily life. That’s why he cared about weight on Yuzuru’s ankle. That’s why he cared about the tightness of the collar. Even if Yuzuru liked the idea of that little bit more discomfort and an edge of risk, he appreciated just how much Shoma looked after him.  

Yuzuru looked up at Shoma as he drew back and shivered. A breeze came in through the open window, but that wasn’t the only reason Yuzuru shuddered. Being completely naked while Shoma was fully clothed was uncomfortable. He knew Shoma could see the gooseflesh breaking out up his arms, the way his nipples had hardened both from cold and arousal. It was embarrassing.

Of course, that was the point.

“Maybe I did,” Yuzuru confessed softly, eyes dropping back to the floor. He shifted his weight, partially out of guilt and partially because his leg was starting to tingle. “Just for a moment.”

Shoma hummed, stroking his fingers through Yuzuru’s hair.

“Look at me.”

Yuzuru lifted his eyes to Shoma’s face.There was something about the confidence that took hold when they were like this, alone together, that made Shoma all the more attractive. Yuzuru loved him all the time, but he was at his best in moments like this. The slight smirk that pulled at his lips, the spark in his eyes, the way he tilted his head ever so slightly to the side.

“Am I your cute puppy?”

Yuzuru blushed. God, what a stupid thing to say on television. He shook his head. Yes, Shoma was adorable. His smile and the way he scrunched up his nose when he laughed, the way he would sometimes duck his head when he was embarrassed or frown when he was confused, the way he’d stumble around in a daze when he was sleepy and sprawl out on the ice when he fell was all definitely very cute. But Yuzuru knew better than to say it in that way.

He shook his head.

“Am I your pet?” Shoma asked.

Yuzuru shook his head again. “No.”

“That’s right,” Shoma said approvingly, petting Yuzuru’s hair, sliding his hand down to scratch behind his ear. It felt nice, Yuzuru leant into it without even thinking. “You’re mine, aren’t you?”

Yuzuru blinked rapidly. There was a lot of ways to think about their relationship, or more, their relationship when they played like this. The roles they gave each other. But it had never quite been verbalised like that before. Shoma quirked his head, waiting for Yuzuru to reply. A fresh wave of embarrassment sent heat flooding Yuzuru’s cheeks.

“I’m yours,” Yuzuru whispered, shifting his body weight again to get the blood flowing in his legs.

“My what?” Shoma teased.

Yuzuru’s face grew hotter. “I’m your pet.”

Shoma made a small pleased sound and tickled Yuzuru under the chin. Yuzuru shivered again. He was painfully away of how he was sitting, how exposed he was. Shoma could clearly see the way his body stirred at even the simplest touch of his face, arousal just coming from the situation, the humiliation. Yuzuru lifted his chin slightly, wordlessly asking for more. Shoma drew his hand back. Yuzuru pouted.  


“You should apologise properly,” Shoma suggested lightly, ignoring Yuzuru’s sulky expression. “Make it up to me.”

Yuzuru nodded again, lifting his arms to reach out to Shoma. Shoma moved back and clucked his tongue in disapproval.

Stupid. He should’ve asked permission first, asked what Shoma wanted. Instead he just moved, doing what he wanted. He wanted to touch Shoma, undress him, so badly he just didn’t think it through.

“No,” Shoma chastised in the kind of tone you’d use if you were training a puppy. Yuzuru stopped himself. “You can’t use your hands. Not to touch me. And not to touch yourself.”

Yuzuru lowered his arms, pressing his palms against the floor. Fuck.

“But. How will I…?” Yuzuru trailed off. Maybe he was being presumptuous.

“How will you what?” Shoma teased again.

“How will I undress you?”

 

Shoma tilted his head thoughtfully. He looked so pretty like that, Yuzuru thought. His hair slightly wavy, threatening to fall into his eyes, the light hitting his features as he tipped his face upwards.

“I guess you’ll just have to earn it. Convince me to take something off.”

Yuzuru let out a small whine from the back of his throat. He had no idea how to achieve that. Shoma moved closer, so Yuzuru would have a bit more access to him without having to stand or climb onto the bed himself. Yuzuru laid his cheek against Shoma’s thigh, nuzzling against it. He had missed this so much. The way Shoma felt, the way he smelled. Even if Yuzuru couldn’t use his hands, he could still feel him.

Yuzuru shifted forward onto his knees, the tension in his waist eased, and stretched his body up, holding his wrists behind his back to stop himself from reaching out and touching even by accident, out of instinct. He pressed his face into Shoma’s t-shirt, tried to feel as much as he could with his cheek, his lips as he could from over the top of Shoma’s clothes. He nosed at the hem, trying to push it up a little, so he could get his mouth on the barest scrap of skin. Yuzuru huffed, frustrated, at how hard it was to make any kind of progress like this. Shoma chuckled as Yuzuru mouthed at the fabric.

Shoma widened his legs enough for Yuzuru to slot between them, and leaned back, to make it a little easier for Yuzuru to catch the fabric with his teeth and drag it upwards. He couldn’t do much like this, but Yuzuru did manage to expose a hip, a strip of lower belly. The challenge was fun. Trying to think of how to get Shoma’s clothes off, trying to do what he could only using his mouth.

There was some satisfaction in pressing his lips against the skin he could get to. He hummed happily against the warm skin of Shoma’s soft belly, trailed his lips over what he could reach and felt how Shoma’s muscles contract in response, listening for the tiny hitch of breath. There was something nice about slowly getting reacquainted with Shoma’s body like this. A little sliver of skin at a time and mouthing at him over fabric. But it was so, so frustrating. Yuzuru tried for a third time to push Shoma’s t-shirt up past his navel and failed again. He let out a pitiful whine.

It would be so much easier to use his hands, push the t-shirt up so he could pepper Shoma’s skin with kisses the way he wanted to. But easier didn’t mean better.

Yuzuru shoulders were starting to ache from the way he held his arms back, his right wrist hurt from how hard his left hand was holding onto it in effort to hold himself back, reminding himself not to touch. He wished Shoma would just tie his hands like that, but doubted Shoma packed anything they could use as restraints. It would be worth it. The struggle would be worth it.

Yuzuru dug his nails into the skin of his wrist and tried again. He dropped a kiss just above the waistline of Shoma’s sweatpants before clumsily trying to get his face underneath Shoma’s t-shirt. He felt the way Shoma’s stomach tenses as he laughed, his hand coming to stroke at the back of Yuzuru’s neck. Yuzuru looked up at him pleadingly. The buckle of his collar pressed on his throat slightly from the angle.

“You tried,” Shoma said with an amused smile. He pushed at Yuzuru’s shoulder, urging him to moved back so he could straighten his back. “But we’ll be here forever if I wait for you to undress me.”

Yuzuru hung his head, defeated. Shoma usually had more patience than Yuzuru, but he was tired. They didn’t have the luxury of time right now. They couldn’t spend all night toying with each other.

Shoma pulled his t-shirt over his head and tossed it carelessly to the side, in the general direction of his suitcase. His sweatpants, his boxers, followed before he sat back down and beckoned Yuzuru to come closer.

Yuzuru dropped a kiss to Shoma’s left foot, where his skates had left a series of bruises near his toes. Then his right ankle. Even though there was no injury there, the way there was for Yuzuru, he felt it deserved a little affection for the hard work it had done through the week. Shoma made a soft sound - like he understood what Yuzuru was doing; why he was doing it.

Yuzuru pressed his lips up Shoma’s leg, up to his knees. Shoma’s hand came back down the stroke through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” Yuzuru whispered, nuzzling into the inside of Shoma’s  thigh, kissing the silky skin there, following the subtle cut of defined muscle. Yuzuru slid his body up, between Shoma’s legs, to kiss Shoma’s abdomen. He liked the shuddered gasp Shoma made as Yuzuru’s chest and belly brushed his cock. Yuzuru felt himself twitch at the feeling of Shoma, hot and hardening against his skin.  
Yuzuru’s shoulders ached terribly. He was desperate to bring his arms forward, steady himself, hold onto Shoma.

“I’m sorry,” Yuzuru repeated, muttering it into Shoma’s chest. He let his lips drag down, closing his eyes at the sound of Shoma’s soft moan. Lips delicately brushed a dusky nipple, tongue kittenish around the sensitive skin. Shoma’s fingers twisted in Yuzuru’s hair.

He breathed his apology out all over Shoma’s chest, his belly. Against the trail of hair that lead down from Shoma’s navel and against the jut of his hip. Shoma could punish him for stalling, for teasing, but this was difficult for Yuzuru too. He was too impulsive, too impatient, always wanting to rush. He was so eager to move himself down, to work up Shoma with his lips and tongue. Shoma made him slow down, made him wait, helped him enjoy every moment a little longer.

Yuzuru gave in. Eventually. His stomach muscles quivered with the effort to hold his body up with no assistance from his arms, his neck and shoulders stiff and aching. His hands held onto his wrists so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if he had bruises in the morning. But it was worth it. The pain, the struggle was worth it. To take him mouth down to Shoma’s cock, taste him on his tongue and hear the breathy sounds he made, to feel the sharp tugging at his hair. Yuzuru loved this. The little opportunities to just pleasure Shoma, to tease him, to feel Shoma’s hands pulling at his hair and hearing him moan. Yuzuru took Shoma into his mouth, relaxed his jaw, and let Shoma thrust up into him.

It didn’t last long. A tease was okay, but Shoma had other plans. He pulled Yuzuru’s head back roughly, chest heaving. Yuzuru winced. He must have looked a mess; flushed, but also shivering from the breeze coming in through the window, hair in disarray, lips puffy and slick. Shoma looked glorious from where Yuzuru knelt. Belly quivering, the smallest amount of sweat building on his forehead, eyes so incredibly dark and lush mouth open slightly as he gasped for air.

Shoma scooted back, leaving Yuzuru alone at the foot of the bed suddenly. Yuzuru stared after him, stricken.

“Come on,” Shoma coaxed, patting the bed. “You can come up.”

It was such a relief to finally let go on his wrists and bring his arms forward that Yuzuru actually moaned, just from being able to move his shoulders. He used his arms to help himself crawl onto the bed, following Shoma eagerly, kneeling in front of him on the soft mattress, hands beside his legs, clutching onto the bed sheets.

“Good boy,” Shoma cooed, patting at Yuzuru’s cheek. Yuzuru almost wanted to laugh; it was so corny, so dumb, but Yuzuru was a sucker. He couldn’t help but smile at the little praise and affection.

Shoma was obviously very entertained, his eyes twinkling. “I think you can have a treat.”

The treat was a kiss. It was also a test. Yuzuru found it very difficult to kiss Shoma without touching him. He loved holding Shoma’s face, running his hands over his back. He needed it to ground him while he got lost in the sensation of Shoma kissing him, touching him, biting his lips. He gasped when Shoma grabbed him by the waist and pulled him forwards.

Yuzuru let himself be pulled up onto Shoma’s lap, whimpering into his mouth. His nails dug into the palms of his hands. He was shaking by the time Shoma was kissing his neck, holding his hips to stop him from bucking forwards, seeking friction. His head tilted back, the collar around his neck tightening slightly.

Shoma bit down on Yuzuru’s shoulder. It was too much. His arms flew up, his hands grabbing at Shoma’s back.

It happened quickly. Shoma pulled back, grabbed Yuzuru’s wrists, and pushed him against the bed. Yuzuru yelped.

Shoma pushed Yuzuru’s wrists into the mattress above his head. His grip was tight and painful. His eyes narrowed, jaw set, expression stern and intense. Yuzuru’s entire body throbbed in response. He moaned weakly.

“I said no hands. Not to touch me. Not to touch yourself.”

Yuzuru felt breathless. Shoma’s eyes were so dark, his tone so low, his grip so tight it made Yuzuru dizzy.  
“I know,” he gasped. “I’m sorry.”

Shoma kept hold of Yuzuru’s wrist as he kissed him again. Up on his knees, between Yuzuru’s legs, keeping their bodies held apart.

It was easy to look at Shoma and think he couldn’t hold anyone down. But he was strong. His grip could leave bruises, his arms could hold Yuzuru down no matter how much he arched and thrashed and fought. Yuzuru loved that. Loved it when Shoma used that strength, held him tight, moved him around. It made all the moments when Shoma was gentle all the more special, all the more rewarding. He could touch feather-light, kiss gently, hold hands under tables and rub Yuzuru’s back. Or he could pin Yuzuru to the wall, force him down onto his knees, hold him still. Whenever he wanted.  
Whenever Yuzuru wanted.

Yuzuru could feel himself getting desperate. Shoma’s tongue slipped into his mouth, hips coming forward to rock against Yuzuru’s thigh but offering Yuzuru no relief at all. He made soft, whiny sounds into Shoma’s mouth. He tried to lift his arms, but Shoma just pushed them down even harder.

Shoma only let go to reach back into his bag again. Yuzuru held himself as still as possible, waiting, trying to calm himself just a little.

“I’m going to hold your wrists. Since you can’t control yourself,” Shoma told him, voice clipped. He nudged Yuzuru’s legs further apart and settled back between them. “Don’t come until I tell you that you can.”

Yuzuru cringed. He was so hard, straining against his stomach. It was already painful. Shoma not wanting him to come meant Shoma would not touch him - not let him come - until he had somehow earned it. He might not touch Yuzuru at all, force him to come without the help of his hand. It had happened before.

He gripped the sheets above his head as Shoma prepared him. Quick, rough, efficient. No more than necessary. Yuzuru watched as Shoma rolled a condom onto himself, and bit his lip.

It would be hard to hold back.

Shoma crawled over Yuzuru’s body, guiding one leg back and up so Yuzuru’s knee hooked over his shoulder. Yuzuru lifted his other leg to wrap around Shoma’s waist. Their bodies aligned and Shoma pushed inside. He took hold of Yuzuru's wrists again, pressing them down.

Yuzuru let out a thready, feeble moan. He missed this. He missed feeling Shoma inside him, he missed the burn of being stretched. He missed Shoma burying his face in his neck, breathing heavily for a moment to collect himself before he started to move.

He had missed the feeling of closeness, of complete and utter trust, of letting go of every defence and giving himself up completely. He had missed Shoma being there to take him, use him, make him feel good.

Shoma groaned, rocking his hips, slow at first but forceful. Getting faster. Setting a rhythm that made the mattress squeak. Yuzuru squeezed his eyes shut and tried to remember to breathe.

There was almost too much stimulation. Shoma’s ragged breath and low, grunted moans by his ear. The dry drag of Shoma’s lips over his cheek, his jaw, his neck. Hands gripping his wrists tight, the ache of his arms from being held in one position so long. The heat from within his own body, and the heat coming from Shoma’s skin clashing with bursts of cold air coming from the window. Shoma moving inside him. Not so slow anymore, but not fast enough. Hard. Hard enough to hurt. Just a little. Not too much, just enough. Hitting right where Yuzuru wanted him, sending sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine. The only thing he didn’t have was Shoma touching him. No hand stroking him to help him along, nothing to relieve the throb between his legs. Yuzuru could feel his cock leaking onto his belly; the pooling heat, the tight ball of building pressure in the pit of his stomach. But there was nothing to help him tip over the edge. Shoma still held their bodies apart, just enough to deny Yuzuru the friction he needed. He could still get that release, he just needed a little more.

“Please,” Yuzuru gasped. He wanted to beg. Faster. Harder. Anything.

Shoma slowed down. Tears prickled at the corner of Yuzuru’s eyes. Every muscle in his body felt tense.

“Not yet,” Shoma whispered. “Not until I say.”

Yuzuru whimpered. Shoma almost completely stopped. The movement of his hips became little more than a slow shifting to keep himself hard. Yuzuru took deep, shaky breaths to try to calm down, step back from that edge.

Shoma gradually picked up the pace again. Yuzuru forced his eyes open, looking up hazily atShoma’s face above him. Yuzuru hands flexed in Shoma’s grip. He wanted to stroke over his hair and feel the damp heat that made it curl, push back the strands that were sticking to his forehead, draw him face closer and kiss the dark flush that has risen low on his cheeks and across his jaw. Shoma’s lips parted, head dropping down, moaning low and long as he thrust into Yuzuru faster.

Yuzuru couldn’t help himself. It was too good, too close to being enough. His thigh flexed and his leg tightened around Shoma’s waist. He arched up, rolling his hips and gasping as he rubbed against Shoma’s stomach. It was a brief, blissful moment of relief. His eyelids fluttered.

Shoma’s hips stuttered and then stopped.

He pushed at Yuzuru’s wrists before letting them go.Then he was gone. He pulled out and sat back on his heels. The sudden loss of contact, the heat of Shoma’s body disappearing and the abrupt end of stimulation was jarring. Yuzuru almost sobbed. He had been close. So close.

“You’re so impatient,” Shoma said tightly, kneeling beside Yuzuru. His breath came out in heavily pants. The tension in his body made the muscles in his abdomen stand out more, highlighting the upward curve of his cock. He frowned, frustrated. Denying himself to punish Yuzuru wasn’t easy. But he could handle it.  
“Get on your knees.”

Yuzuru was shaking as he moved. His arms felt weak and wobbly. Like they wouldn’t be able to support his weight for long. Yuzuru hung his head and tried to slow down his breathing.

“You really do keep forgetting your place, don’t you?” Shoma asked, not expecting an answer. His hand ran over the curve of Yuzuru’s ass. “You shouldn’t rush me like that.”

Yuzuru nodded his head mutely, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. Denial hurt. But Yuzuru needed Shoma to push his limits like this, to discipline him.

“How many times?” Shoma asked calmly. Yuzuru held his breath. “Three?”

How many times. How many times tonight had Yuzuru disobeyed, broken a rule, crossed a line. Yuzuru shook his head.

“Five.”

Shoma hummed, thumb stroking the swell of Yuzuru’s ass gently.  
“Five,” he repeated. “Are you sure?”

Yuzuru nodded. Shoma’s hand withdrew. Yuzuru closed his eyes and braced himself.

The first smack always hurt the most. Shoma’s hand came down against Yuzuru’s ass with a force that made all the air exit Yuzuru’s lungs. His hands twisted in the sheets in front of him, the initial sharp slap of pain followed by a hot, tingling sensation. Shoma was good at this, he knew not to chase each smack with the next too quickly. It was better to let the skin really feel the impact, let the pain settle a little, and then hit again to set off a fresh wave of that warm, burning pleasurable pain. Sometimes he would hit different areas, swap out where the blow would land to keep the pain fresh. Other times he would focus on one spot so the sensation was more layered. Either way, he liked to keep Yuzuru waiting, not sure when to expect the next hit so when it came, Yuzuru was both prepared for it and surprised by it.

The second blow made Yuzuru cry out, back arching, ass lifted higher in the air. By the third, Yuzuru was gasping, tears streaking down his cheeks, arms shaking. Shoma squeezed the cheek he had been laying his slaps onto, dug his fingers into the most sensitive part. Yuzuru wondered how hot it much feel to the touch, how red it looked. Shoma massaged the sore spot, soothing it for a moment. Five, Yuzuru had asked for five. Two more to go. Yuzuru didn’t know if he could take it - as worked up as he was, as sensitive as he was. He could come just from Shoma spanking him. It would be a first.

Yuzuru licked his lips. He liked the idea of that. But maybe some other time, when he wasn’t crowded my media at all hours who would notice and question why he was walking funny and couldn’t sit down.

Shoma drew back his hand and slapped the tender red mark on Yuzuru’s ass with precision. Yuzuru keened. He lowered his head and bit down on the bed sheets to prepare himself for the final blow. The pain was exquisite, the sound of Shoma’s hand meeting his skin was like a whip crack. The sheets stuffed in his mouth weren’t enough to hold back the raw, broken sound he made.

Yuzuru wished he could see Shoma; see the look on his face while he did this. Yuzuru could hear his ragged, excited breaths. He wondered if Shoma looked as wrecked as Yuzuru felt.

“Don’t touch yourself,” Shoma reminded Yuzuru. His voice was raspy. His hand slipped around Yuzuru’s hips.

Shoma didn’t try to go slow, not this time, they were both too far gone. Yuzuru tried to focus on stopping his arms from collapsing under his weight, on breathing. Shoma fucked into him fast, hard, pushing Yuzuru forward slightly on the mattress and causing the headboard to slam against the wall. The room with filled with the sound of Shoma’s hips slapping against Yuzuru’s skin, his breathy groans and Yuzuru constant gasps.

Black spots swam in Yuzuru’s vision until he closed his eyes. His arms, his legs, his abs all burned with latent tension waiting to be released. His back arched, fists white-knuckled against the mattress.

“Shoma I can’t-” Yuzuru choked. “Please.”

“Not until I tell you to.”

Yuzuru shook his head, fresh tears spilling from his eyes. He squeezed them shut, focusing all his energy on holding back the orgasm that was hurtling towards him. Shoma didn’t let up, didn’t slow down, didn’t make it any easier. He just tossed his head back and groaned as Yuzuru tightened around him. Yuzuru thrashed his head to the side, hips rocking back into Shoma slightly. He whimpered. It was as if every nerve pulsed when Shoma pounded into him. It was everything Yuzuru wanted. Rough, unforgiving, unrelenting, no holding back. Just Shoma, giving everything he had. Completely unrestrained. Pain lacing every movement, completely intertwined with a pleasure that could only be enhanced by it. It rushed like a river, and Yuzuru was trying to desperately hold it back behind a dam that was ready to burst.

“I can’t. I can’t-”

Yuzuru made a desperate, strangled sound as it hit. The wave hit its peak. But didn't crest. It was like he hit the climax and stayed there, through the harsh pounding of Shoma’s hips. His entire body trembled, overwhelmed by an orgasm that seemed to be never-ending but also strangely muted. Incomplete.

“Good boy,” Shoma groaned, slowing just slightly, gentling just a little, but not stopping. “Good boy.”

Yuzuru opened his eyes, desperately gasping for air. He felt raw, hyper-sensitive, and right back where he was before. Still so hard it hurt. It had been an orgasm with no resolution. In end. No come down. He was just riding one wave and hopping onto another. Yuzuru’s elbows buckled. All he could do was gasp for air. Face pressed against the mattress, mouth gaping open, eyes shut, body surging forwards with the pounding of Shoma's hips. Each time Shoma slammed into him, it was like every nerve in his body lit up. Yuzuru could barely process what he was feeling. Thinking was impossible. Holding back his weak, high-pitched whimpers was something Yuzuru was incapable of. Shoma’s thrusts became irregular, jerky. He was losing control.

Shoma’s hand slipped from Yuzuru’s hip, moving forwards. Yuzuru’s body jerked when Shoma ran his hand other his cock, thumb swiping over the head. He stroked Yuzuru once, twice. That was all it took.

It was like everything stopped and crumbled apart. Yuzuru’s vision turned white, his body twitched, his mind went blank. The second orgasm hit harder, stronger, longer. He could hear Shoma behind him, groaning out his own release, but it was like his head had been plunged underwater, everything seemed fuzzy and distant compared to the sound of his blood rushing in his ears. 

Shoma lay beside him, still. They stayed like that. Just breathing. Collecting themselves.

He felt Shoma withdraw and gently roll him onto his back so his face wasn’t pressed into the bed. He heard the click of Shoma closing the window, him shuffling elsewhere in the room. Yuzuru knew he would be back soon. Shoma never left him alone for too long after they finished.

The mattress dipped as Shoma came back, laying down beside him, close but not touching. Not while Yuzuru was still trembling from the aftershocks of orgasm, too sensitive to handle touch.

They just lay there for a moment. Until the pleasure was replaced with a bone-deep exhaustion. Until their hearts slowed down and their breathing evened out. Yuzuru opened his eyes, not even realising he had them closed and turned his head to see Shoma watching him. His hair was still damp, skin still glowing from the flush of sex.

“Are you okay?” Shoma asked, voice gentle but wrecked. His lips looked well bitten and swollen. Yuzuru nodded. He couldn’t talk yet. His brain wasn’t there yet.

“Let’s take this off.” Shoma reached forward, carefully unbuckling the collar at Yuzuru’s throat and slipping the strap off. He put it to one side, and lightly brushed the hair on Yuzuru’s forehead to one side. “Can you sit up?”

Yuzuru had to think for a moment but nodded. Shoma helped him, propping up pillows behind his back, making sure he was comfortable.

“Here, I got some water,” Shoma said softly, holding out a water bottle. Yuzuru opened his mouth and let Shoma pour the water into his mouth. Shoma did it slowly, giving Yuzuru time to swallow, check to see if he had enough.  
“Do you think you can stand? We can run a bath. Your muscles must hurt.”

“Not yet.” Yuzuru shook his head. “I need a little more time.”

Shoma nodded, leaning forward to kiss Yuzuru’s cheek. This was important. The moments afterwards when Shoma took care of him. When he was sweet and soft and affectionate. They both needed this.

“I’ll go get a cloth so I can wipe you down a bit here, okay?” Shoma smiled, putting his hand on Yuzuru’s “I’ll be right back.”

Shoma was quick, dashing to the bathroom, and coming straight back, warm cloth in hand. He gently dabbed at Yuzuru’s stomach, his thighs. They would have to strip the sheets, but not yet. They could just sleep in the other bed.

“Your wrists are already looking bruised,” Shoma said softly, running his finger over where the bone jutted out. When he looked up at Yuzuru then, large brown eyes sweet and concerned, it was hard to remember that just moments ago those eyes had been harder. That the bruises he was tending to were caused by him.

“I’ll wear gloves.” Yuzuru smiled. “And long sleeves.”

Shoma kissed the back of Yuzuru’s hand gently. “I’ll put cream on them before we sleep.”

Yuzuru nodded. Shoma always did this. Cream on bruises to sooth them and help them heal, ice or heat packs on any sore muscles afterwards. Warm baths, gentle embraces and soft kisses. They would talk about what they did if there was something Yuzuru hadn’t liked or wanted more of. It could be difficult to talk about sex candidly. But when they were with each other they could be open and honest about it.

“We’ll have that bath now if you’re ready? I’ll help you up.”

Yuzuru nodded, getting an arm around Shoma’s shoulders, wincing as he did. Yuzuru watched while Shoma ran the bath, careful not to make it too hot, adding the bubbles Yuzuru liked. They climbed in together, even though the tub was a bit too small. Shoma didn’t really take up too much room. There was still enough space for Yuzuru to sink down, so his back was against Shoma’s chest and Shoma could rest his chin on Yuzuru’s shoulder. The warmth was good to ease the aches Yuzuru felt all over.

“Your arms hurt, right?” Shoma asked, cupping hot water in his hand to bring it up over Yuzuru’s arms and back.

“Yeah.”

Shoma leaned back, just to give himself room to drag his hands up Yuzuru’s back, massage his shoulders and upper arms, help to ease out the stiffness that gathered there.

“Thank you.”

Shoma dropped a kiss on the back of Yuzuru’s neck.  
“You did well today.”

“It was good.” Yuzuru hummed. “How did you know…?”

Shoma stroked Yuzuru’s waist. “You got flustered in the interview,” He said, sounding a bit smug. “And you were so keyed-up in the car. It was obvious what you wanted.”

Yuzuru smiled. They were getting a lot better at reading each other.

Shoma got his chin back on Yuzuru’s shoulder, arms wrapping around his waist under the hot water. Yuzuru could feel his smile against his skin.  
“Maybe next time you can come three times?”

Yuzuru snorted, turning back carefully to look at Shoma and his impish grin.

“No way! I almost passed out this time!”

Shoma laughed. Yuzuru wrinkled his nose cutely, voice dropping to tease.

“Maybe next time _you_ should come twice.”

Shoma shook his head. “You’re better at it than me. I can’t do it like you can.”

Yuzuru hummed and turned, settling back against Shoma’s chest. Shoma could come twice, but only because he had a short recovery time. He just needed a little rest between. That was usually when he focused more on Yuzuru. He couldn’t do what Yuzuru just did. It had taken them a lot of time to train his body to perform orgasms like that.

And Yuzuru knew that Shoma liked seeing Yuzuru lose himself so completely like that. He wasn’t just chasing his own pleasure, but he was invested in exploring the limits of how much Yuzuru could feel. How much they could feel together. He liked taking Yuzuru apart, stripping away every defence. He liked knowing he could make Yuzuru feel that good.

It was nice to just cuddle for a while. To let Shoma clean him and dry him off when they got out of the bath. Shoma was careful applying ointment to Yuzuru’s bruises before they dressed for bed, and giggled when they slipped into the unused bed to sleep.

“Hey,” Shoma whispered once they settled. “I love you.”

Yuzuru smiled and kissed him, just a sweet, chaste peck on the lips. There was never any doubt. Shoma showed it in everything he did for Yuzuru. Every day. It was nice to hear. Shoma never went to sleep without saying it in some way. Whispered into the dark, or over the phone, or through a message. Shoma always made sure Yuzuru knew at the end of every day. And Yuzuru always responded.

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah I don't know why I wrote this either. It kinda started as a joke.


End file.
